Clean
by curlyred
Summary: Walt helps Jesse get clean after he starts using again in Season 4...fluffy and sappy. Please read and review.
1. Not Pretty

"Is there something we need to talk about?" Walt had asked Jesse earlier that afternoon in the lab after a strained and unusual invitation to ride go-carts with him.

Although Jesse had managed to come back with a snotty quip about Walt's black eye to get him to back off, Walt could see that the kid was not well. Even as he denied anything was wrong, Jesse's hands were shaking, his eyes were red and it almost seemed that he was trying not to cry. Walt didn't believe him for a second, but backed off and let the kid go home, not wanting to discuss it in the lab in front of Gus' cameras. They had just barely avoided being killed and he didn't want to give Gus reason to rethink the decision to let them live.

Still, as he drove home he couldn't stop thinking about it. He stopped at the store, picked up a case of beer and returned to his lonely condo, where he sat in the living room and stared at the wall for awhile. He couldn't stop thinking about Jesse though, as he was sure he was using again and growing more concerned by the minute. _That kid sure does have a way of getting himself into trouble,_ Walt thought dismally, _I guess maybe we're not so different._

Remembering what Don Margolis had told him in the bar about family, he sighed and got up, leaving his half-finished beer. He knew he was going over there; there was no use putting it off.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Jesse's door. He could hear loud music blaring and see the lights from his sound system. Walt was immediately taken aback when he realized that Jesse wasn't alone. There was a broken ashtray on the front porch, cigarette butts strewn everywhere as well as a pair of dirty pants and a shoe trailing off the doorstep- neither looked like something Jesse would wear. Walt tried to peek in the window to see what was up. Hopefully, he had just had Badger and Skinny Pete over, but there was an awful lot of movement in the house for just those two. Something told Walt that he wasn't going to like what was inside.

He couldn't see much through the closed curtains and finally resigned himself to knocking on the door.

"Jesse," He called, knocking louder, "Jesse, it's me."

He knew Jesse wouldn't answer but was hoping maybe Badger would. After a minute of no response, he realized he probably couldn't even be heard over the music and tried the handle. Much to his surprise it popped open easily. That wasn't good, Walt knew, with as many threats to their lives as they'd had in the last few weeks, you'd think he would at least keep his door locked.

Walt stepped in and his jaw dropped. Instead of crashing a wild party as he had begun to expect, the house was in complete disarray. Graffiti covered the walls, the floor was littered with torn clothing and beer bottles, cigarette butts and drug paraphernalia of all kinds. Walt stepped in carefully, not really wanting to touch anything and turned off the sound system. And he had been right; his young friend was not alone. There were several homeless people talking in the corner, as well as a couple more passed out on the floor, hopefully alive. A naked man was lying on the living room floor, staring up at Walt.

Just as Walt was about to call out to him, Jesse came stumbling down the stairs. He froze when he saw Walt. He didn't move but his eyes registered fear- for he knew how utterly he had disappointed his mentor. Not knowing what to do, Jesse remained frozen, blue eyes boring into Walt's dark ones.

"Oh, Jesse," Walt said at last, then repeated it in a more sorrowful tone, "Jesse."

Jesse was wearing a bright blue shirt which seemed to make his eyes even more blue. He stood perfectly still, minus the shaking in his arms and the slight quivering of his face, waiting for Walt to say something else.

Walt frowned, taking stock of the place. A lone scream from the kitchen distracted him momentarily, and when he returned his gaze to Jesse he saw how much trouble his friend was in. He looked like a little boy in that moment, the way Walt Jr. used to look at him when he knew he was in trouble but still needed him to fix whatever mishap he'd gotten into.

Finally, Walt took a few steps toward Jesse, hoping he would meet him in the middle but he didn't move. Walt closed the distance between them himself and put a hand on the young man's shoulder. Jesse looked at his hand, then back at his face, but didn't speak.

"You're not okay, son, are you?" Walt asked softly.

He expected Jesse to lash out but instead he just shook his head. Walt squeezed his shoulder.

"Will you let me help you?"

Jesse bit his lower lip and nodded.

"Good," Walt nodded, putting his other hand on Jesse's shoulder, forcing him to face him squarely, "It's going to be okay, just go upstairs to your room and throw a few changes of clothes in a bag. No drugs."

The word _where_ hung on Jesse's lips but he didn't ask. Instead he slowly shuffled up the stairs.

"That's it, everybody out!" Walt called, "Get out of here now!"

When Jesse heard Walt's footsteps on the stairs about ten minute later, his heart jumped into his chest. He was already feeling nervous and strung out from all the drugs, but knowing that Walt was going to be mad at him only served to increase his anxiety. Maybe he wouldn't be mad, Jesse reasoned, but decided his pity was even worse. Maybe he should just tell him to fuck off, but then again, it was obvious to everyone including Jesse that he was not handling this well on his own.

"Well, I think that's the last of them," Walt said, entering the room, "No more hobos."

Jesse looked at him questioningly.

"You'll want to lock the house up good tonight, in case anyone comes back. Go on and throw some clothes in that bag," Walt paced the room, "Where's your cash?"

"Closet," Jesse mumbled, the first words he'd said all night.

Walt quickly found the bag of cash and grabbed it forcefully, "You'll get this back when you're better."

"What are you gonna do?" Jesse asked, his voice hoarse.

"We've got to get you clean, son," Walt said, sitting on the edge of Jesse's bed, "Look what you're doing to yourself. You've got homeless people living in your house. These people don't care about you, Jesse, they're just here because you're taking care of them."

"Oh, and you do?" Jesse snapped.

"I do," Walt said openly, surprising the young man who was rearing for a fight, "And that's why I'm taking care of you."

"Are you taking me back to rehab?" Jesse stared into his pathetic duffle bag, with only one change of clothes, the only remotely clean thing he had left.

"No, I can't," Walt said, "Gus would….well, we can't do that. I'm going to take you to my house and I'll get you clean."

"Um….I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. White," Jesse said sheepishly.

"No? And what's your idea? Stay high forever so you never have to deal with this?"

Jesse shrugged, too embarrassed to tell Walt that that was exactly his idea.

"That's not what I mean, Mr. White," He explained, "It's just that I've been rolling for a really long time…like days….I haven't slept in….I don't know….when a person comes down off of something like that, it's really…..it's not pretty."

"You think any of this has been pretty?" Walt snapped, "You think watching you shoot heroin with Jane was pretty? You think killing Krazy 8 and dissolving him in the bathtub was pretty? What are we talking about, here? Sweats? Night terrors? Aches and pains?"

"Yeah, that, muscle cramps, nausea, vomiting, acting crazy, panic attacks, you name it," Jesse said, "You don't want to do that. You can't do that, you have responsibilities, yo."

"You have responsibilities too, yo," Walt hissed, "Here's what we're going to do. We're ahead of schedule already. I'll go in tomorrow and finish it up. You will stay in my house and not leave and not talk to anybody. That should buy us three or four days to get you over the worst of it."

"And then what?"

"And then…." Walt hadn't thought that far ahead, "And then we'll see."

He didn't want to threaten to keep Jesse at his house for a long period of time, for fear he might resist going with him now. Hopefully once he'd gotten clean he would see the wisdom in not putting himself through this again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. White," Jesse said, tears running down his face, "I fucked up."

All his anger melting away, Walt stepped toward Jesse and wrapped him in a hug. He could feel how thin and frail the young man had become.

"Yeah," He agreed, placing his large palm on the back of Jesse's head.


	2. Down

It was dark by the time Walt led Jesse through the door to his condo and motioned for him to throw his bag on the couch.

"Do you want to clean yourself up or anything?" Walt asked, "Shower, sink, whatever you need?"

Jesse did not feel like he had the energy to take a shower, even though he knew he should. Slowly, he dragged himself into Walt's bathroom and stripped down. He had thought the shower might be refreshing but he was in such a state that the water falling on his skin only served to further agitate him. He decided it might be smart if he went to bed without talking to Walt, as he would only pick a fight with the man who was trying to help him.

He must have been in there longer than he thought because when he emerged, Walt looked up from the kitchen counter and said, "I was just starting to wonder if I should check on you."

Jesse grunted and headed over to the couch, wearing nothing but a towel as he hadn't thought to bring any clean clothes with him into the bathroom. Walt walked off down the hall as Jesse struggled into some boxers and a T shirt, and returned with a blanket and pillow.

Neither man got much sleep that night. Jesse lay tossing and turning on the couch, wishing he could sleep but feeling all anxious and tweaked out, debating if he should just slip out and score some more meth. Walt lay awake in his bed worried that the kid would do just that, but neither could bring themselves to go to the other.

When Walt woke up the next morning, he immediately went out to check on his young friend and was startled to find him gone. On closer examination, however, his shoes were still by the door, so he couldn't have gotten far. Peering down the hallway, Walt thought he could hear him in the bathroom and decided to make him some breakfast. He didn't want to leave him all day but knew he had to finish the cook. He had picked the first day to do it because if he had calculated correctly, at this stage of withdrawal Jesse would sleep for most of the day anyway. He began to worry when Jesse had still not come out of the bathroom in the time it had taken him to get dressed as well as make and eat his own breakfast.

Finally, he made his way down the hall to find that the bathroom door was partially open.

"Jesse," He knocked, his first pushing the door the rest of the way open.

The young man sat on the floor, slouched over the toilet. He didn't seem to be awake, so Walt ran to him and gently shook his shoulder.

"Wake up, Son, look at me."

Jesse's eyes fluttered open as he stared back at Walt, too exhausted to even be embarrassed.

"Are you sick?" Walt asked, pulling back on his shoulders a little to prop his face up off the toilet.

"I'm down, Mr. White," Jesse answered, wiping his own face, either for tears or sweat, Walt couldn't tell, "I'm crashed, I mean…I'm just tired….not even sick yet."

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

Jesse nodded. Seeing how he could hardly stay awake, that seemed like a resounding yes.

"I told you, you're not going to want to see this," Jesse insisted.

"It's okay," Walt promised, "I'm going to work like we said. I'm just gonna help you up and you can go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Jesse agreed, taking Walt's arm to pull himself up.

Walt walked behind the stumbling Jesse, hands on his shoulders and guided him down the hall to his bedroom. Jesse flopped into the bed, still unmade from when Walt had gotten up. He laid on his side and turned away from Walt. Walt sat down quietly on the edge of the bed with his back to Jesse.

"Do you need anything? I left some waffles in the microwave for you. When you wake up you should try to eat them. I'll be back in about four or five hours. Are you going to be okay until then?"

Jesse mumbled something unintelligible and Walt turned around to see that he was out cold.

When Walt returned from the lab he was exhausted. He had worked as fast as he could and as much as he could to buy some time off to help Jesse recover. He didn't know what the next few days would bring, as this kid could certainly be a lion or a lamb, depending on his mood. He hoped he would think clearly once he was done withdrawing. Entering the house, Walt was a little nervous, always fearing the worst when it came to Jesse. Nothing seemed out of place, however and Walt found Jesse zonked out on his bed, mouth open appearing not to have moved all day. Since Walt was also exhausted, he laid down on the couch for a quick nap.

When Jesse awoke hours later, he couldn't figure out where he was. Sadly, this didn't alarm him all that much, as waking up in strange places went hand in hand with heavy drug use, and it had happened more times than he cared to admit. Slowly, it dawned on him that he was in Walt's condo, in Walt's bed.

 _What the fuck?_ He thought, _Where's Mr. White? And why am I in his bed?_

He was still pretty tired, but too curious to go back to sleep. He first headed for the bathroom, as he had been asleep for a good ten hours and really had to pee. There he began piecing together vague memories of coming down off the drugs. He had gone into the bathroom thinking he might puke, which he didn't, but must have nodded off. He had a foggy memory of Walt guiding him down the hall.

"Mr. White?" He called, approaching the end of the hallway.

He turned the corner to find Walt asleep on the couch. Walt opened his eyes and gave Jesse a weak smile, "Hey, you're up."

"Oh, I'm sorry, yo, I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you were sleeping," Jesse apologized.

"It's fine," Walt said, sitting upright, "I needed to get up anyway, I only meant to take a quick nap before dinner."

"Dinner? It's like 11:00 PM, yo," Jesse said, "What time did you pass out?"

"I don't know, I got home late…six maybe? I cooked a double batch and kept some out for next week. In case you need a little extra time to …you know.."

Jesse nodded.

"You look better," Walt observed, "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Jesse nodded, "I'm starving."

"Me too," Walt agreed, realizing he hadn't eaten since breakfast, "Do you want me to whip something up?"

"Um…actually…do you want to go out?" Jesse asked, "I'm thinking buffet. Or maybe Denny's- that's open all night. I could eat a horse."

"Yeah, sounds good," Walt said, "I didn't think you'd be up to it just yet, but you seem like you're doing okay."

Walt could see this comment made Jesse nervous, but didn't press. Jesse slid a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts while he chose his next words.

"That's…uh…that's not it….you know? It's not over."

"What's not over?"

"The uh…the thing…the reason…the withdrawals. That's just how it works. When you're high for a really long time you get all agitated and shaky, like yesterday…then you come off it and you just conk out cause you haven't eaten or slept in forever…so you seem fine for a minute but then once you eat and sleep, it's like your body catches up and you start going through like….physical symptoms."

"Not your first rodeo, I take it?" Walt tried to make light.

"No, I just…." Jesse stood awkwardly.

"You just want to go out, get out of the house and do something cause you know you're going to miserable for the next few days?"

"Yup, that's about it."

They sat across from each other at Denny's, Jesse devouring a Grand Slam while Walt picked at his salad.

"This is so good, Mr. White," Jesse babbled, shoveling food into his mouth, "Seriously, you have to try this. It's like sex..but in my mouth."

Walt couldn't help but laugh.

"So, how long has it been? Since you've eaten?"

"I don't know man. Probably a few days. I had some guys order pizza a few days ago. I ate some crust or something when I got home from the lab…but it wasn't very good, I like found it on the floor and then…no I ate some of those um…things you gave me in the lab that day…"

"Cashews?" Walt asked, remembering the day he had brought cashews to the lab, "That was three days ago, Jesse."

"Yeah…probably…it's bad, Mr. White," Jesse continued eating.

Walt let his young friend ramble for awhile, as he always did when he was nervous. It seemed the kid could go on forever, but it was nice to hear him talking. Walt shook his head, thinking he spent half his time trying to get the kid to talk and the other half trying to get him to shut up. When he tuned back in, he realized Jesse was still talking about food…or something,

"…cause then you got all these eggs that are like churned up in a pan to the point that…"

"Jesse."

"They're all fluffy and you can like mix stuff in them…."

"Jesse," He said louder.

Jesse stopped talking and looked up at him, "Sorry."

"You're fine," Walt laughed, "Just…you know…relax…you're fine."


	3. Not Different

Jesse screamed in agony.

They had finished their meal in relative peace and had actually returned home feeling good. Jesse had grabbed a blanket and crashed on the couch, feeling like he should at least get some sleep before the suffering started. Despite Walt's assurances, Jesse was concerned about how embarrassing this was going to be. He had withdrawn from drugs before but this was certain to be the worst. He had been high for weeks on end, although he had told Walt it was only days. He wasn't eating or sleeping his body was literally shutting down. It was good Walt had intervened when he did or Jesse knew he would have surely died.

He bit his lip to stifle another scream. The pain in his arms and legs was intense. He wondered if he was having a heart attack, but realized it was most likely withdrawals. He had experienced pretty intense muscle cramps before, but figured this would be more intense since he had been so high for so long and deprived his body of vital nutrients.

 _Deprived of vital nutrients? You sound like Mr. White,_ He thought to himself.

Looking up, he realized that Walt was standing in the doorway. Of course he was, Jesse reasoned, he had screamed after all.

"I'm sorry, Mr. White," He said, grasping the arm of the couch to brace himself from the next wave of pain, "I'll be quiet, go back to bed."

"Jesse, what's wrong?" Walt asked, ignoring him, "Is this part of the withdrawal?"

"Yes…no…I don't know…probably…..leave me alone, it's fine."

The throbbing vein popping out of his forehead combined with the strained redness of his face told Walt that Jesse was not fine.

"What is it, what's happening?" Walt asked.

"Nothing, yo, it's fine," Jesse said with strained breaths, "It's just cramps..just my arms and legs are…hurting…please go back to bed."

Jesse was on his side, facing the back of the couch so he couldn't see if Walt had actually left. After a moment of silence, he breathed a strained sigh of relief, thinking Walt had for once listened to him and gone away. He had just given in to the fact that he was utterly miserable and allowed a lone tear to run down his cheek when he felt the weight of the couch sink as Walt sat on the very edge. He cringed as he felt Walt's hand on the tightened muscles in the center of his back.

"What are you doing, Mr. White? You're…hurting me?" He groaned, realizing that although the pressure Walt was applying to his back was slightly painful, it seemed to alleviate the pain in his shoulders, at least temporarily.

"Relax, it's okay," Walt said gently, "This might hurt a little bit but it'll make it better."

"Are you like massaging my back, yo?"Jesse moaned, "This is so gay."

"It's not gay, it's science," Walt replied calmly, continuing to ease the pressure by working his hands around the young man's shoulder blades, "When you get all doped up and don't drink enough water you get dehydrated and your tissues spasm, causing intense pain…by applying pressure to the right spots you can relieve some of the spasms in the nerves, which makes it hurt less. After we're done here you're going to drink a bunch of water and hopefully it won't be this bad tomorrow."

Jesse was about to argue, but could feel the difference. His arms were in less pain already.

"That's so messed up, yo," Jesse continued, his arguments weaker this time, "It's just gross, you know, there's some things you don't do to another dude, that's all."

"Jesse," Walt responded instantly, "Let me tell you something. You know that my son has cerebral palsy, yes?"

"Yeah," Jesse said, breathing hard and clenching the couch arm, as his legs were still in pain, although the pain in his arm was lessening.

"Well, let me tell you, when Walt Jr. hit puberty and started growing his joints and muscles hurt like crazy in his arms and legs. I used to do this to him a couple times a week. We couldn't afford a physical therapist on the regular so we had him come once and he taught me some things. It helped him. A lot…so trust me, this isn't new to me and it certainly isn't gay, it's just science."

"That's different," Jesse insisted, though he was starting to relax a little more, "That's your son."

"Tell me it doesn't make it better."

"It does…" Jesse admitted, "It does….okay, fine, it does help. Is there a magical pressure point for my legs?"

"Yeah, there is," Walt laughed, "But if you thought the shoulder thing was gay, you certainly aren't going to like this."

"Oh, god, where is it?" Jesse asked, weighing the increasing pain in his thighs and calves against his dignity.

Walt gently pressed his finger on Jesse's lower back, just above his buttocks. Jesse didn't say a word, but signed in acquiesce.

"Well, you want to flip yourself over and make it easy on me?" Walt said at last.

Jesse silently rolled fully onto his stomach and allowed Walt to gently apply pressure to his lower back. He hated it, but had to admit it dulled the pervasive, sharp pain that had jolted him out of a deep sleep.

"The good news is this probably won't last very long," Walt said, "It doesn't hurt so much when your body drains its resources, which is why you weren't in pain when you were using. However once you start to replenish, it's a painful process. So now that you've consumed a lot of calories and are getting hydrated, it will hopefully get easier. There you go, feel better?"

Walt stood up so he could see Jesse's face. Jesse nodded at him, still awake but much less agitated. Walt could tell he was about to fall asleep, so he grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the floor and pulled it over him. He started to walk away, then turned back to find Jesse still staring up at him.

"Just so you know," Walt said gently, "It's not different. Good night."

He flicked the light off and walked away, leaving Jesse to process what he had just said.

"It's not different," Jesse whispered quietly into the darkness as he drifted off to sleep.


	4. Carwash

Now that his muscle spasms had calmed down, Jesse was actually able to sleep a little bit. When he woke up at 3 AM feeling nauseous he wasn't even surprised.

"Here we go, bitches," He grumbled to himself, getting up off the couch to get some water before the worst of it set in. _Hopefully Mr. White was right about the water keeping my muscles from tightening up again,_ he thought as he downed a glass and refilled it from the kitchen sink, _Hell, he probably is, the dude knows just about every weird thing there is to know._

He finished his water and made his way into the bathroom, where he sat on the edge of the tub and waited, stuck in that awkward moment where you know throwing up is inevitable but can't quite make it happen. He even attempted a few times, kneeling down in hopes that the smell from the toilet bowl would help things along…hell, he just wanted to get it over with so he didn't have to feel so nauseous anymore. No luck. He got up and paced the floor a couple times, only to turn around and see Walt standing in the open doorway. He didn't say anything but the obvious question was written all over his face.

"I…uh…." Jesse shrugged, "Just hanging out in here…thought I was gonna get sick."

"But you're okay?" Walt asked, voice still hoarse from having been asleep.

Jesse nodded.

"Well, do you mind if I uh…"Walt motioned to the toilet.

"Oh, yeah, no problem," Jesse muttered, squeezing past Walt out into the hallway. Walt had no sooner closed the door when Jesse realized he was going to be sick now.

"Dammit," He cursed as he ran down the hallway, "I knew that was going to happen."

He picked up the pace as he reached the kitchen, knowing he was definitely going to vomit. _But where?_ He looked around, _Kitchen sink? No, it's full of clean dishes…that's too gross….house plant? What are you an animal? Just go outside._ The realization hit him just in the nick of time. He barreled out the door in time but wasn't able to make it down the stairs and hung over the balcony outside Walt's door, vomiting unceremoniously into the bushes below.

He briefly made eye contact with a very confused Saul, who was standing on the doorstep, hand poised to knock. The two men stared at each other for a moment, but neither spoke, as Jesse was still vomiting uncontrollably and Saul had no idea what he had just walked into. Finally, Saul broke the gaze and continued into the house.

"Hey, Walter! What the hell is wrong with you?" He called loudly, searching for Walt.

Just as he started down the hallway, Walt came out of the bathroom, holding a toothbrush and wearing just a T-shit and boxer shorts.

"Don't you knock?" He demanded

"I was about to when Paula Abdul here came flying out and started watering the garden," Saul motioned over his shoulder to Jesse, who moaned loudly as he finally pulled himself up of the railing.

For a moment all three men looked at each other, confused, as no one was quite sure what they were seeing.

"What the hell is going on here?" Saul asked first, "You guys party too hard last night or what?"

"No, it's just…"Walt started to explain, then, at a loss, demanded, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," Saul quipped, "Waiting for someone to buy a carwash. You're the one that wanted to do this so badly, you could at least show up to the signing."

"I completely forgot," Walt's face went pale and he darted into the bedroom.

"Hello?" Saul called after him, "Your wife and Bagdans lawyer are over there right now waiting for you."

Walt rushed out of the room with a jacket in one arm, still pulling up one of his pantlegs,

"Okay we'll call from the car and tell them we're on our way."

Walt finished pulling up his pants and led Saul out the door, only to immediately double back when he realized Jesse was still standing in his entry way, having not made a sound.

"Jesse," Walt put his hands on both of Jesse's shoulders, wondering what to do with the boy.

"I'm fine," Jesse answered his unspoken question, "Go. Buy your carwash."

"You sure, Son?" Walt asked, "I'll only be gone an hour. Ninety minutes tops."

"May I remind you I'm hourly," Saul cleared his throat and tapped his watch.

"Yes, go," Jesse said aggressively, "I can take care of myself for an hour."

Walt looked at him, concerned, not wanting to say what he was thinking.

"I'll stay right here," Jesse said it for him, "I won't….." he looked sideways at Saul and lowered his voice, "…I won't use….promise."

"I know you won't," Walt patted his arm, "I'll be back."

"Can you bring me a toothbrush?" Jesse shouted as the door slammed, "Please…"

Once alone, Jesse didn't know what to do. It would be easy enough to go and use, he knew. He had to admit, the idea made his heart sink when he realized how disappointed Walt would be. He mulled it over in his head a little- maybe he could be back before Walt ever knew he was gone. Surely it wouldn't take long for him to score a little meth. Although, Walt had driven him here so his car was still back at his house. He determined it would take no more than thirty minutes to take a bus to Crystal Palace and see if someone there could hook him up. If he was lucky that would take no more than an hour, plus a thirty minute bus ride back. Did it take more than two hours to buy a carwash? Jesse had no idea. Walt had said 90 minute tops.

Jesse wandered into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. He was thinking that his eyes looked exceptionally bright but he quickly realized it was only because his skin was exceptionally pale. His whole body, minus the piercing blue of his eyes had taken on a dull grey quality. He definitely didn't feel like himself- there was no doubt the withdrawals had kicked in. He knew depression was a part of it and he would likely feel better in a few days, but the thought didn't seem to help him in the moment. There was only one thing that would, he knew.

He was starting to shake now, he wanted it so badly, but knew it would be the dumbest thing he could do. It occurred to him that if he had thought this through he could have asked Walt to bring back more than just a toothbrush, maybe sent him to his house or to get food or something. He could have bought another hour.

 _They just left,_ He reasoned, _If I run out the door right now I can still make it._

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, disappointed in himself.

 _No,_ He reasoned, _That's not what would happen. I would get high and lose track of time. Mr. White would be here when I got back and I would have to explain what I did. To him. Of all people. Ugh, how is it that the one damn friend who gives a shit if I am high or not is the one I get stuck with taking care of me?_

He paused as he realized he had answered his own question. Because Walt did care. He would be sorely disappointed and most likely wouldn't continue to be this kind about it if Jesse messed it up.

 _"It's not different,"_ the words echoed in his head. The words from last night when he had all but outright told Jesse he thought of him as his son. The reason he couldn't betray his trust now, even though every fiber in his being wanted to.

"Damn you, Mr. White," Jesse screamed in to the mirror, his frustrated voice echoing down the hall.

Deciding he couldn't do it, he would just have to tough out the next hour and a half until Walt came back and meth was no longer even an option. He didn't want to look at the mirror anymore so he sat down on the bathroom floor, feeling the shakes in his shoulders and knees.


	5. The Weirdest Good Thing

"Well, there you go," Saul said as they headed back to Walt's condo, toothbrush in hand, "You are the proud owner of a car wash. Are you going to tell your wife about your new boyfriend?"

"He's sick, Saul," Walt said dryly, "I'm keeping an eye on him so he won't cause any more trouble."

"You two are a pair," Saul shook his head, "You know New Mexico has recently legalized gay marriage, so if you decide to just scrap this whole Skylar thing and you need a divorce laywer.…"

"Shut up, Saul," Walt said, "I'm just keeping my partner out of trouble. For all of our best interest."

"Lucky little bastard," Saul chuckled, pulling up in Walt's parking lot, "Where I come from if you caused trouble they'd kill you, not bring you a toothbrush and babysit you."

Walt thought about telling Saul to shut up yet again, but instead silently got out of the car. He was far too nervous to deal with Saul. He had not planned on leaving Jesse alone this soon and was afraid he had run out of the house to score the second he and Saul turned the corner.

Walt bounded up the stairs and took a deep breath before opening the door. It was quiet. _Please tell me he didn't leave,_ Walt thought, panicking. Who knows what trouble his young friend could have gotten up to, and Walt didn't have the energy to run around town tracking him down and pull him out of whatever crack den he had found his way to.

 _Maybe he's sleeping,_ Walt reasoned, making his way to the bedroom to check, uncertain if Jesse would have crawled into his bed without invitation. He peeked into his room to find nothing. He bit his lip and sighed in exasperation as he routinely checked the rest of the house, not expecting to find him.

When he stuck his head into the bathroom he almost didn't see Jesse, as the lights were off, door open, and the young man was seated barefoot on the tile floor, holding his knees to his chest. Walt approached slowly, amazed at how small his friend looked sitting there like that with his head between his knees. Walt flicked on the light and sat down on the edge of the bathtub next to Jesse.

"Jesse," He whispered, putting his hand on the back of the young man's neck.

Jesse didn't answer and didn't even seem to acknowledge him. It didn't bother Walt anymore, as this was a pretty typical response from Jesse when he was upset.

"How you doing?" Walt continued, knowing full well he would not get an answer.

He gently squeezed Jesse's shoulders and could feel how much is his body was shaking.

"Are you cold?" Walt asked, observing the goosebumps on his arms

Jesse raised his head and nodded. Walt was also shocked at how blue Jesse's eyes seemed today, and as he went to grab a hoodie, realized the same thing that Jesse had. That it wasn't his eyes that were different, his face had lost all of its pallor, making his eyes seem brighter by comparison. Walt returned with an old track and field hoodie from the Whynne High School.

"Here you go, from your alma mater," Walt said, holding the hoodie out to Jesse, who was still holding his own knees in an attempt to control the shaking.

When he made no attempt to help himself, Walt sat back down on the tub and grabbed Jesse's right arm, pushing it into the sleeve of the hoodie. He was surprised at how much tension and resistance he felt in Jesse's arm. Usually when he was in this state he was completely flaccid and indifferent to being moved or touched, but Walt could feel that his muscles were tight and he was not physically well.

"Come on, help me out here, son," Walt said, suddenly uneasy as he put Jesse's right arm down and took his left.

Although Jesse hadn't moved, Walt had moved the arms he was using to shield his face, and thus the young man was now looking directly at him. Walt slowly put his other arm into the hoodie, uncertain if his friend was scared or angry with him.

"Can you stand up?" Walt asked.

Much to his surprise, Jesse stood up and pulled the hoodie on over his head.

"Better?" Walt asked.

"Um….yeah," Jesse stuttered, "I….don't feel so good."

"Come on, lay down," Walt said calmly, silently willing his young friend not to lash out.

Jesse stood stiffly but allowed Walt to lead him to his bedroom, where he gently pushed him down on the bed.

"Can you sleep?" He asked.

Jesse shook his head, although he was already fading.

"What if I put a movie on…would you watch it with me?"

Jesse nodded slowly. Walt popped in movie and sat on the other side of the bed. Jesse was out within minutes.

Walt jumped when he heard Jesse's sharp scream next to him. He had long since turned off the movie and was now sitting on his side of the bed reading while his partner slept. Although he had slept peacefully for the first hour or so, he had spent the last several rolling around and muttering in distress. Walt had already been debating whether to wake him or not when the screaming started. He screamed louder, tossing and turning viciously but did not wake up, seemingly stuck in a dream.

"Jesse," Walt shook his shoulder, only then realizing the poor kid was drenched in sweat. Walt could feel the thick layer of sweat through the large hoodie he had given Jesse to wear.

"Son, wake up," Walt shook him harder.

"Stop," Jesse wailed, attempting to shove him away. Walt wasn't sure if it was intended for him or if he was still battling some unknown assailant from his dreams.

"It's Walt," He grabbed him firmly by both shoulders, climbing up on his knees to do so, "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can…." Finally Jesse's eyes were fully open. A look of curious uncertainty played across his features as he tried to place himself. Why was he laying in Walt's bed with Walt looming over him, trying to wake him up?

"You were having a dream or something," Walt explained, realizing how strange this must look as he sat back down, "It's okay. You were screaming, I'm sorry to wake you."

"Uh, no, that's cool," Jesse wiped his brow with his sleeve, only to realize he had sweated through the shirt so heavily that using it as a sweat rag was utterly useless. Disgusted by his own sweatiness, he peeled the hoodie off and said meekly, "Sorry."

Walt stared in awe. The T-shirt he had on underneath was also drenched.

"It's alright," Walt said gently, "Why don't you take that one off too, I'll grab you another one."

"I…uh…don't have any more," Jesse said, pulling the wet shirt over his head, "I haven't been keeping up on laundry…what with all the getting high and all…"

"That's okay, I need to do some laundry anyway," Walt held up a hand, gesturing for Jesse to throw him the dirty shirt. He frowned, probably out of embarrassment, but obliged and tossed him the shirt.

Walt gathered the hoodie and tossed both into his laundry basket, while Jesse sat there, shirtless and awkward, unsure of what to do. Finally he stood up and when Walt saw that his pajama bottoms were also drenched, he ran his hand over his face, as he always did in uncomfortable situations.

"Uh…yo, sorry man but you might want to do the sheets too."

Walt wordlessly rummaged through his drawers and produced a pair of pajama pants and and plain grey T-shirt.

"Here, why don't you go change into this and grab some extra sheets out of the bathroom closet."

When Jesse returned, looking even smaller in Walt's oversized clothes, he silently tossed his sweat-soaked pants into Walt's laundry basket. Walt had stripped the bed already. He nodded to Jesse and disappeared out the door.

Jesse managed to make himself useful long enough to put the new sheets on the bed, but immediately felt the need to lay down again. _Man, these withdrawals are a bitch,_ He thought as he sat on the bed, back against the headboard.

Walt returned moments later, acting casual, but Jesse had a hard time believing he wasn't bothered by all this.

"Are you feeling any better?" Walt asked, handing him a glass of water, "Here, replenish fluids."

"Yeah, uh…a little..." Jesse said, "I forgot how much I hate this."

"Is this a bad one?" Walt said, "I mean…by comparison."

"Hard to say," Jesse admitted, "Physically it's pretty bad, but as far as being in a nice safe place and having a bed and …you know…you looking out for me….I've definitely had to do this in worse conditions."

"Well, I'll take that as a thank you," Walt said, sitting next to Jesse on the bed, propping a large decorative pillow between them for him to lean on.

They looked at each other for a moment without speaking. Sensing that his young partner was much calmer now, Walt finally broke the silence,

"Worse conditions like what? Tell me."

"Uh, well, the first time I was still in high school. I was living with my aunt- my parents kicked me out cause I was a disappointment. So, obviously when my aunt caught me with drugs she made me stay in the house for like a week. They didn't know how bad it was, I think she thought it was just an experiment. So, then I started getting all sick and I'm not sure if she made the connection or just thought I had the flu. She was pissed still about the drugs and so I basically just laid there all sick and she would constantly yell at me. That wasn't actually the worst part though. She told my parents and they would drop by once a day to bust my balls too. I mean, I know I deserved it and all but on top of the withdrawal, it's like, yo, I know I fucked up, just let me suffer in peace. You know?"

"That was the worst one?"

"No."

"What, rehab was worse?"

"No, rehab wasn't that bad. They had like all this medical detox and shit so it wasn't that bad. That was just more scary cause it's a bunch of strangers and I was in such a state when you dragged me out of the crack house I wasn't even really sure what was happening. Then all the sudden I'm sick, surrounded by strangers and committed to this twelve step program. I was like whoa, I didn't sign up for this."

"So there was another time you had to do this then?"

"Um…yeah," Jesse shifted nervously.

"What happened?" Walt asked, enthralled.

Neither noticed that the big pillow separating them was slowly getting crunched down in the corner and they were almost touching now.

"Nothing…I just…um," Jesse fumbled, not sure he wanted to tell Walt about this one.

Walt said nothing but his intense gaze persisted. Realizing there was no way out of it, Jesse took a deep breath and started talking,

'"Okay, so this was a couple years ago. Before Emilio got busted and I met you. I didn't cook yet so I had to depend on other people to get drugs. I went to a..party of sorts…kind of like that house you pulled me out of. I got really high and passed out. I guess there was some big bust…don't remember much of it but a couple of my buddies dragged me out of there. They had to run for it and couldn't carry me so they hid me in an alley and took off. I don't remember much of it, but I woke up in an alley and was super sick. I was also beaten bloody and couldn't move my arms and legs. I don't know how that happened…my friends said I was normal when they left me there…to this day I have no idea what happened. I laid there for more than day. I was so messed up and in pain and I had nowhere to go anyway cause my aunt was still alive then so I couldn't go back there."

"What happened?" Walt asked, intrigued.

"On the second day my friends from the party got out of jail and they were worried they couldn't get ahold of me so they went back to the alley and found me. They were like 'what the hell happened to you' and I legit didn't know. I must have gotten robbed though cause all my money and drugs were gone. They took me back with them but because of the bust no one was holding and I stayed there for a night but there was a whole bunch of drama."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly what happened. The guy who's house it was got mad at his wife. They got in a physical fight and there were a few other dudes there. I was pretty sick and didn't really know what happened but the cops got called so they told me I better get out. I spent another night on the street cause I didn't know where I was and I didn't have any money or a phone. The next day I felt a little better, made my way home and swore I would never use again."

"But you did?"

"Yup….I always do."

"So tell me, something, Jesse. What is it about drugs that's got such a hold on you?"

Seeing the jolt in the young man's expression, Walt continued in his most soothing tone, "Now I'm not picking on you. I'm actually asking. You're certainly a street smart young man, what is it that makes you so willing to take something that' s not only terrible for you but you end up in all these really dangerous situations?"

"I don't know, Mr. White," Jesse said honestly, "Sometimes I ask myself the same thing. It's like it feels so good. Anything bad that happened to you, and I mean anything, just doesn't matter. That's why you seem to fall apart cause you don't care that there's strangers in your house or you're doing dangerous things. You don't feel the need to take care of yourself."

"That sounds terrible," Walt said honestly.

"No, it's great. It's like freeing," Jesse explained, "No responsibilities, nothing tying you down. As long as you can keep that high, literally nothing matters. It's like the ultimate life of no consequences."

"But don't you see the consequences when you come down and you've made an even bigger mess for yourself?"

"Yup, that's the problem. It takes a lot of money and a lot of creativity to stay high all the time. You come down, realize what you've done and the only thing you can do to forget it is to get high. So you do, then the next time you come down you realize you've made it even worse so you have to keep on."

"So what happens when you run out of resources? I mean, eventually the money runs out. People are not willing to help you anymore cause they've heard it so many times. What then?"

"Well, that's exactly what I try not think about," Jesse said, "And it's all I've been able to think about the last couple days. I mean, a lot of people end up in jail. Commit a crime or do something desperate to get a fix and end up in the slammer. Then you have to come down but you also have an even bigger mess."

Walt could see this conversation was distressing Jesse a little bit. Perhaps he was making him think about the end game before he wanted to.

"So, what's the plan then?" He asked gently, "You say you've been here before. You decide to stop now before you make things worse. What goes wrong?"

"Life, I guess," Jesse shrugged, "I can't always handle it. It's a lot of stress, especially, you know in our line of work. It's like you're all alone and then suddenly you have these drugs and they're like the best friend you've ever had. You feel so good…I guess I'm just weak."

"You're not weak," Walt said, sitting up straighter, "That's the thing that always surprises me. You've been through so much and yet you always find a way to keep going. And I know I get on your case sometimes, son, but it's not because I think you're stupid. It's because I know you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. I just want you to see it."

"Okay, now you sound like a teacher," Jesse chuckled.

"I mean it," Walt swatted his shoulder gently, "I want you to see that you're better than all this."

"Yeah, thanks Mr. White."

"Okay, seriously. You come to me. Next time. When you can't handle it, please come talk to me before you go running to your pipe or needle or whatever it is."

Jesse nodded but didn't say a word. Walt letting go, sensing he may have escalated the conversation too much.

"So did you buy your car wash?" Jesse asked, changing the subject.

"I did," Walt replied.

"That's a big step," Jesse said, "Is that cool, doing that with your old lady? I thought you two were on the outs."

"We are, but she's in this now too."

"Smart," Jesse mused, "Then she can't implicate you without implicating herself."

"Well, I didn't quite think of it like that but I suppose you're right," Walt mauled it over, "Actually, it was her idea. I was going to buy that stupid laser tag place."

"She's probably right about that one," Jesse looked up at him, "I can't picture you owning a laser tag place."

"And I believe a year ago you told me you couldn't picture me cooking crystal meth and now look at us."

Jesse actually laughed. It had been a whirlwind of a year. He was just as much in awe of it now as he had been the day his high school chemistry teacher had hunted him down and blackmailed him to cook meth. Amazing that such a short time ago they were amateur drug dealers, thrown together by nothing more than circumstance. They had started out as strange bedfellows forced to work together and now they thought of each other as family.

 _It's not different,_ Walt's words from the other night still rang in Jesse's ears. That single off- handed sentence where he told Jesse he considered him a son. Jesse knew he knew he was probably reading too much into it. Surely Walt was just trying to make him feel better and probably wasn't even aware of how much it had meant to him to hear it at that moment. Still, he couldn't help but think about it, and in fact it was about the only thing that had kept him from using earlier that day.

Still, a year ago he would not have believed that he would be lying in Walt's bed, wearing his clothes, letting him help with the withdrawals. And not only _letting_ him but actually _wanting_ his help. Still chuckling to himself at the absurdity of this accidental relationship, he looked up at Walt to see him laughing too.

"You are by far the weirdest good thing to ever happen to me," Walt chuckled.

"Ditto, yo," Jesse sighed, relieved to know the kinship he felt with his mentor was not one-sided.


	6. Stay Awhile

"Well, isn't that just precious," Mike's voice jolted both men out of a sound sleep.

Though neither remembered falling asleep after talking late into the night, they sat up and realized simultaneously that they must have both drifted off. They had been completely passed out, sitting in the bed, propped up on each other. Jesse lifted his head off Walt's shoulder in quiet embarrassment.

"What are you doing in my house?" Walt demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Mike stated calmly, "Saul told me about your little tea party and I thought I should come by and check on things."

"We're fine," Jesse insisted.

"This isn't…what it looks like," Walt stammered awkwardly.

"You'll notice I didn't ask," Mike continued solemnly "Anyway, Gus wants to talk to you. Now. Let's go."

"Right, just let me change," Jesse stood up.

"Not you, Princess. Walter."

The two men looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"It's okay, Mr. White," Jesse said at last, "I will be fine here."

"Are you sure?" Walt asked, concerned.

"Yeah, it's…fine."

Walt struggled into his pants and jacket and followed Mike out the door.

"He's sick," He explained as he got into Mike's car.

"Still didn't ask," Mike said matter-of-factly.

Mike took Walt to Los Pollos Hermanos and took a seat in a corner booth, sending Walt up to get a soda. Walt ordered from the cashier, staring into the camera as he knew Gus was sitting in his office watching him. Waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Walt sipped his soda nervously while Mike came and sat across from him and waited.

After what seemed like hours, Gus came out and approached their table.

"Hello, gentleman, is everything to your liking?"

"Actually, sir," Mike spoke up, scooting over in the booth so Gus could sit down, "I have a complaint about some of the chicken I had here last week."

"I'm sorry to hear that sir," Gus said, loud enough for anyone listening to hear, "I would be happy to hear your concerns."

He sat down next to Mike and lowered his voice.

"I wanted to check up on our situation."

"And what situation would that be?" Walt asked, in his best intimidating Hiesenberg tone.

"You know very well what I mean," Gus gave him a withering look, "Don't waste my time. I know your partner is _sick._ I just wanted to make sure he is getting better."

"Jesse is fine," Walt insisted, "He is at my house. He is clean. The situation is handled. He is no danger to you, me, or our…mutual interests."

"Good. See that it stays that way," Gus said, in his usual calm, but threatening tone, then stood up, "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen."

Mike waited until Gus had returned to the back before standing up.

"That was it?" Walt asked, "That couldn't have been a phone call?"

"You know Gus doesn't like phone calls," Mike said calmly, "Do you want to go back and check on your problem child now?"

Walt wordlessly followed Mike out to the car. When he returned to his condo, he found Jesse sitting on the couch, reading a book.

"Great Gatsby," Walt observed, "Good choice."

"I found it," Jesse shrugged, "I was bored. Cause there's like nothing to do in this shit hole."

"Glad to see you're feeling better," Walt snickered.

"So, what did he say?" Jesse asked eagerly. He had been wracking his brain the whole time they were gone, afraid that Gus would want to kill him now that he knew about his situation.

"Not much," Walt shrugged, "Just concerned about you."

"Oh," Jesse realized that Mike was still standing in the doorway, and Walt would likely not say anything with him here.

He waited for Mike to leave before exploding,

"What, Mr. White, what's happening? Cause if I'm about to wind up shot in an alley someplace I need to know that."

Walt laughed. It was good to see the kid concerned for his own well-being again. He must be starting to think rationally after all.

"You're fine, Jesse," Walt assured, "He's not going to kill you. He really was just checking up on your …health. I'm sure it was out of concern for his own interest, but I told him you were fine and that I would make sure you stayed that way."

"Oh, so I'm your responsibility now?" Jesse demanded.

"Don't," Walt held up a hand, "I'm not doing this for Gus, you understand. Well, a little, but mostly I'm doing it for you. Calm down. Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, for now," Jesse crossed his arms.

"Well, are you ready to start cleaning up that house of yours? I figured we could get a jump on it before we have to go back to work."

"We?" Jesse asked confused.

"Yes, we," Walt said casually, "You didn't think I was going to get you clean just to send you back to a drug infested dump, did you?"

After a day of working on the house and dinner at a local bar, Walt drove them back to the condo. Jesse was feeling almost normal again, and was afraid Walt might drop him off at his own house. He was afraid his partner would at least ask him where he wanted to spend the night tonight, and he wasn't sure how to answer. Physically, he was feeling well enough to fend for himself, but although Walt had dumped all the drugs that were currently in his house, he didn't quite trust himself not to go find more. He sighed in silent relief when he saw that Walt was heading back to the condo.

Jesse set up camp on the couch while Walt took a shower and retired to his bedroom. Jesse lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He knew Walt was still up, as he could hear the TV and debated trying to talk to him. Despite the lack of physical symptoms, he still felt scared and alone. Walt's comfort the other night had been a great help to him. He leaned back and began counting the tiny dots in the ceiling tiles, regretting that he hadn't grabbed the play station when they had been at his house.

 _Maybe I don't have to count all these,_ he found himself thinking, _I could count the number of dots across and down on one tile and multiply them. That would work, right? Yeah. Then I could count the number of tiles and…._ he trailed off, realizing he sounded like Mr. White, _Screw this, just go find another book._ He sighed, agitated, realizing that too, was a Mr. White-like activity. _Fine, what's a Jesse-like activity? Getting high and fucking up my life…I could do that._

He looked down and realized he had been scratching at his arms during this whole conversation with himself and had now picked some of the skin raw. Maybe he was still having some withdrawal symptoms after all. Or maybe he just had no idea how to handle emotion of any kind when he wasn't using. He groaned and got up to rinse the trickle of blood coming from his arm.

He stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He wanted to use. Bad. It was getting to be all he could think about. What was he going to do when he was on his own and Mr. White wasn't here to stop him? It occurred to him that although Walt was still awake, he probably wouldn't notice if he snuck out and returned before morning. _No,_ he scolded himself, _He loves you but not that much. If you waste this help, you will never get another chance._

Still, he had to occupy his mind somehow. He slowly approached Walt's door, uncertain of what he was going to do or say. He had just barely touched the handle when the door swung the rest of the way open. Walt looked up at him from the bed, where he was sitting against the headboard in boxers and a T-shirt. He had seen him, Jesse knew, now he had to say something.

"Do you…uh…mind if I watch with you?" He stammered, reaching both arms around to the opposite shoulder blade, twisting himself nervously.

"Not at all," Walt motioned to the empty side of the bed.

Jesse smiled a little when he realized that Walt had been expecting him. The light on, door halfway open, Walt sitting on only one side of the bed. Jesse didn't know how, but knew Walt had anticipated him coming. _That's good, right? It means he trusts me to come to him instead of sneak out and use?_

"Did you know I was coming in here?" He couldn't help but ask.

"I had a feeling," Walt smiled, handing Jesse the remote, "Suffice it to say as long as you're not using, I'm happy. And if you want to know the truth, I've been married so long I forgot what it's like to live alone. If you need to stay here a little longer until you get used to being clean, it's fine with me."

"Thanks, Mr. White," Jesse said appreciatively, "I…uh…if you don't mind…I might feel better…about not using I mean…if I were here…you know, just to hang out with someone who isn't."

"As long as you need," Walt smiled at him, "I mean it."

Jesse leaned back against the headboard and the two watched TV in silence for awhile. Jesse was just starting to nod off when he heard Walt yawn.

"Want me to turn it off?" Walt asked, "You look like you're fading fast."

"Yeah, I guess I should go back to the couch," Jesse moved like he was about to get up as Walt switched off the TV.

"Mmm, I don't care," Walt shrugged, "You can stay if you want. Especially if you're going to stay awhile, that couch isn't very comfortable."

Jesse paused for a moment. It was one thing to do it by accident, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be okay with doing it on purpose. He reasoned that it was no different than sleeping on side by side cots in the RV, which were crammed so close together there was actually less space between them than there was now.

"Isn't that kind of…you know….gay?" He demanded, more because he felt he should than because he actually cared.

"Well," Walt yawned, "We've both killed for each other, so I feel like the normal social protocol is kind of out the window anyway. If you want to sleep on the comfy bed instead of that lumpy old couch, it's fine by me."

Jesse sat silently and didn't move, so Walt turned the light off and laid down. After a moment, he heard Jesse wriggle down under the covers too.

"Thanks, Mr. White" He said quietly, "For everything."

"You're welcome son."


End file.
